


Angels With Dirty Faces

by DoctorVoodoo



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorVoodoo/pseuds/DoctorVoodoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere, a boy cried for all this death. Cried for the lives and blood that had been spilled carelessly and without regret. For the boy's own family who had been slaughtered and thrown to the ground without respect. The tears hit the ground, but the sound would not be heard above the sounds of pure and utter Death. Screaming in terror, the boy collapsed on his mother, holding her frozen body close as a stream of endless horses surrounded him, as he heard the sickening squelch of his father's body being trodden on by their enormous hooves. He prayed he would join them soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

The blizzard beat down on the marsh, freezing the landscape and the hearts of the men that battled there. Amongst the blood strewn ground lay countless bodies of human and horse, women and children. The once golden arches of the entrance to the city of Sertah were stained with red and pieces of flesh. Swords clashed and soldiers screamed. Horses wailed as they hit the cold earth, bodies became cold before their death. Horns blared in the distance and more men, some on the ground, and some with horses charged into the battle.

Somewhere, a boy cried for all this death. Cried for the lives and blood that had been spilled carelessly and without regret. For the boy's own family who had been slaughtered and thrown to the ground without respect. The tears hit the ground, but the sound would not be heard above the sounds of pure and utter Death. Screaming in terror, the boy collapsed on his mother, holding her frozen body close as a stream of endless horses surrounded him, as he heard the sickening squelch of his father's body being trodden on by their enormous hooves. He prayed he would join them soon.

The last of the animals past, but one remained. A large, bulky blond male with silver armor and red cape, stained with the blood of his victims, dropped down from his steed, a stunningly golden thoroughbred. The man carefully avoided stepping on the corpses as he made his way to the small child. He dropped into a crouch and held out a hand and touched the boy's bare shoulder, heating it with his warmth. "Come, child. The battle is over..." the man's voice rumbled, breaking the morbid blanket of silence. The boy looked up with wide, tear stricken eyes. The blue in them almost matched those of the man's, but if he noticed, he did not say.

The soldier picked up the shivering child and held him close, draping his cape over the quivering body. Feeling warmth coming from the stranger, the boy curled into what little heat there was and felt himself slipping away as the man trudged on, his golden horse following behind him. Suddenly, a stark white horse burst past him. The mare skidded on the ice and reared up on its hind legs, whinnying in fear. The soldier barked an order to his own horse, and watched the golden creature butt the panicked one in the shoulder. The silver horse dropped down and snorted, swinging its head from side to side. Its flanks heaved, and the man noticed blood splatters across the fine skin.

"This is my father's horse." he whispered, running a hand up and along the horse's stained muzzle. "Take me to him, Yggdrasil." The white horse bounced her head down and turned, trotting off toward the city's arches.The soldier carefully held the child close and swung himself onto his steed with one arm, then kicked its sides for it to follow Yggdrasil.

\-----------------------

CRASH! BANG!

A blond whipped his head around, eyes wide at the sound of metal falling and crashing into the floor. He had looked just in time to see the blacksmith get buried in various pieces of loose leather and scrap metal. Suppressing a groan, he kicked the debris out of the way and dug out his mentor. "Master...Stark. I would advise you against pulling loose string now." he snickered, grasping Tony's hand and yanking him out of the pile. His mentor huffed and brushed himself off, scowling at him with his honey-coloured eyes. 

"You know, you can be replaced, Rogers. There are so many other people dying to be my assistant-"

"-Apprentice." Steve interrupted, smirking down at the shorter of the two. Tony poked his chest irritably before turning around, wiping the black soot from his face. Yes, Tony Stark was a very interesting part of the human species, Steve thought, and he had to put up with every woman from town coming in and complaining to him that the blacksmith had harassed her or tried to flirt, and she was married. Now that he was used to it, it just seemed like a rather tedious task that he did daily. Chuckling to himself, he set back to work on the horseshoes for the royal stable horses.

A string of curses reached his part of the workshop and Steve held in another bubbling laugh. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Tony. The man was cradling his thumb, obviously having hit it with the hammer. Shaking his head lightly, he turned back and grabbed the paintbrush hanging from the beam ahead and brought it down to the tin of golden, shimmering paint. This had been a special order from the King; Golden horseshoes for all of his steeds. The stable hand, Clint Barton, had brought the message over to him. Much to Steve's surprise, the other had mentioned that the King enjoyed the work of both mentor and apprentice, and wished to have some for his horses. Steve had of course accepted and informed Tony they had a rather large order to fill.

Snapping back to the present, Steve brushed the regal paint over the first horseshoe, watching the gold seep into the crevices. At least the king had been kind enough to give them a few weeks to finish the order. "Are you not glad, master, that we are not rushed as that week we were given to finish the armor for Sir Coulson?" he prompted, grinning widely as he finished another horseshoe. Tony grunted in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders and bringing the hammer down for another strike on the unformed metal. Steve wondered why a man who could chat up a dame could be so silent when he was working. 

"Just as long as we get this order done, I don't care how much time we acquire, Rogers." he finally responded in his gruff and grainy voice. Steve shrugged and set another painted horseshoe on the pile. He was sure they would get it done, for the pressure of having an order directly from the King was enough to make him work faster. 

Besides, despite their dislike for each other, they worked alongside each other.

\--------------------------------------

"Sir Barton?" a young, smooth voice pulled him from his thoughts. Clint turned to find the little prince Loki standing there in his small green robes with his hair tied up in a 'tail with a golden thread. Smiling, he knelt down and gave a small bow. Even if the prince was only six years of age, he was very kind and a sweet child, and had earned the stable hands' respect. 

"Yes, my lord?" he replied, giving the prince his full attention. The child blinked up at the horse that Clint was holding onto by the lead. He looked back at the stable hand with a grin on his face. 

"Can you...teach me how to ride, please?" he asked, reaching up a hand and straining as he tried to pet the horse. Clint tugged on the lead and the horse, named Yggdrasil, lowered her head and nudged the little prince's hand. Loki lifted his arms and hugged the horse's nose, his hair tickling Yggdrasil's nose, and she sneezed. The boy smiled and stepped away. "She has a kind heart." he remarked, turning his eyes back to the stable hands'. 

With a chuckle, Clint held his arms out, beckoning the prince to come to him. "Here, my lord, I will sit you on her and teach you. But you must be careful. The king would never forgive me if I harmed his little brother." he added softly as he lifted Loki up and placed him on Yggdrasil. The silvery-white mare snorted and the skin on her shoulder twitched, as if flicking a fly off. Clint held her lead carefully and with his free hand he gave the reins to Loki. He showed the boy the correct way to hold them and stepped back. "Now, you must make sure not to bump your legs against her sides, 'else she will start into a gallop. We do not want you falling off, my lord." Clint said before tugging on the lead and clicking his tongue, signalling the mare to start into a walk. 

Loki held onto Yggdrasil's reins tightly, staring in wonder as the stable hand opened the barn doors. The heavy wood creaked and banged against the wall as they came out into the pasture. Covered in fluffy, almost blinding snow, Clint watched as Loki's head whipped around, looking at everything from a new perspective. As they neared the gate, an elderly woman peered up at them and gasped in surprise, instantly curtseying and greeting the prince. The woman then proceeded to open the gate and let the stable hand lead the horse and rider into the city.

Sertah was a great city, Clint thought. The war had taken its tole on it, of course, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Despite King Thor's rather idiotic ideas for rebuilding, it had survived everything thrown at it. Though, the city did have a lot more thieves and robbers than it used to. 

"Sir Barton! Look!" Loki's startled voice broke into his thoughts. Clint shook his head rapidly and flicked his eyes to where the prince was pointing. A great beast was rampaging through the street, smashing into fruit stalls and houses- and even people. Clint's azure eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed as he stuck his hand into the pack that was strapped to Yggdrasil. He withdrew a long, black-painted bow and a quiver full of arrows with iron tips. Without hesitation, he notched an arrow and aimed quickly at the beast's eyes- and released it. The arrow flew through the air and would have hit dead-on, had the rather large wolf not changed direction. Instead, the arrow buried itself into its shoulder and the wolf emitted a snarl, snapping its long, yellowed teeth.

"Loki, turn her around. Hold on tight and do not let go until you've reached the castle." Clint ordered. He then grabbed hold of Yggdrasil's bridle and stared into her wide brown eye. "Take him home." He slapped her haunches and the horse gave a great whine before hurtling past him and toward the castle. Clint turned and backed away, loosing another arrow and watching it hurtle into the wolf's neck. His efforts did not seem to pay off, however, as the beast did not react to the arrows and simply barreled through another stand, sending splinters of wood showering down upon the stable hand. 

Bracing himself, Clint reached into his tunic and pulled out the knife he had strapped to his chest. Overpowered or not, he wouldn't go down without a fight.

\--------------------------------

Clouds of breath swirled out of her mouth as Natasha hid from the patrol of guards heading for the huge wolf. She curled her hands into fists and crept out from behind the crates, staring out into the wrecked streets of Sertah. Natasha breathed out a sigh and spotted a rather low roof with a ladder resting against the wall of the building. Quickly, she ran up to the ladder and swung herself onto it, gained her footing, and heaved herself up onto the roof. A gust of wind tugged at her bright red hair as she stood up on the rough stone. 

Her blood froze as she located the wolf, pinning down a blond male under its giant paw. The same stable hand who had hid her away for a fortnight while the guards were out looking for her. Natasha's face set in a frown and she leaped from the roof and rolled to the ground, sprinting toward the wolf. She heard its great bellowing and quickened her pace. This was going to be her way to repay her debt to the stable hand. Suddenly, she stopped and slid on a patch of ice before spotting a pile of arrows scattered across the ground. Natasha grabbed a single one and, as she slid, she threw it at the stable hand just as the wolf's muzzle came down toward him. The man caught the arrow and drove it into the beast's eye, watching the blue blood spew from it. He then withdrew it and stabbed it into the seeping wound on its neck and the wolf howled out one last time before going limp, its azure blood seeping out onto the ground as he lay, unmoving. 

Natasha gained her footing back just in time to get behind a dismantled stall, covering the guard's view of her. She watched as the man who saved her was grabbed by the guards.

"Get him to the royal infirmary, now!" The leader, a shorter woman with long brown hair ordered them. She stood there a moment, watching them carefully as they picked the injured male up before turning to the wolf. The guards-woman leaned over the body and plucked the arrow from its neck, observing it with calculating eyes. Then, her yellowed eyes flicked toward the scattered arrows, a sizable distance away from where the wolf had pinned the stable hand down. Her mouth set in a frown as she regarded the scene before her.

Natasha knew this woman was trouble. She obviously wasn't the sort of knuckle-head guard that normally ran around Sertah. No, she was smart, and if Natasha stayed, she would figure out that someone was hiding behind the broken stall. With fox-like stealth, she snuck behind the crates of fruit and entered the small space between two houses. Her emerald eyes fixed on the woman, Natasha backed up, turned and fled through the alleyway, her footsteps unheard by even her. 

Once she was sure she was not followed, Natasha slowed down and leaned against the ruined building that she called home. Safe for the moment, she thought, but never entirely.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

They had told him it was justice that he be stuck in the mines for the rest of his life. They had told him a lot of things, if he thought back. They, the Royal Subjects of Sertah, told him he was a murderer, someone who deserved to die. Of course, King Thor knew nothing about this. They kept it quiet from him, because if the King had known...there would be hell raining down. Bruce smirked to himself as he struck the wall with his pickaxe. Sure, he's had his share of killing people in pointless wars, but he hadn't killed anyone who didn't deserve it.

This is what separated him and the Subjects. He knew what he is.

But there were days, like today, when Bruce wanted answers to the questions that swirled inside his head, like poisonous little traps, waiting to be released. His fingers hurt and bled from mining all day, with no one to help, and he wanted to know why they put him here. He had seen murderers be released back into the public, not shoved into a dark and dank cave for their lifetime.

No, there was certainly something wrong with what the Subjects had done, and he intended to find out. Bruce cast an irritated look down at the chains encircling his ankles. 

Of course, he would find out when these cold, unforgiving metal loops let him.


	2. The Rebllion Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have the privilege of a spell-checker or a beta so if you would be kind as to ignore typos- or tell me? I could fix them. XD  
> Also this chapter is short because it has two parts to it~  
> -EJ

"I've done a lot in my life."

Alaric didn't know what to say when he was kneeling before the massive crowd, bound in runed chains around his neck, legs, arms and middle. He didn't know how to say he was innocent and let it fall on deaf ears. He didn't know how he could ever apologize for something he did not do...So he went along with it. He was going to die anyway, so why not just get it over with?

"The crimes I have committed...I regret each and every one of them. If there was any way I could apologize, most sincerely, I would. But unfortunately, I don't have the time to make it up to everyone..." Alaric paused. "But...It would be my last wish to hear my side of the story. If you would so indulge me, people of Sertah."

Many cried in outrage, but the king waved a hand for silence. Ala looked up at the regal blond with respect in his misty eyes. Thor was a good kind- a bit knuckle brained at times, but a good king nonetheless. He would give him a chance if no one else would. A flash of green caught his eye and he turned his head a bit painfully to the side. Prince Loki, the little child, stood staring at him with his wide orbs. So innocent...like him. Alaric bowed his head, not able to stand keeping the child's gaze. Thor was suddenly in front of him and his large hand extended out to him. Alaric tipped his head up as the king's fingers pulled up on his chin. 

"You may have your last words. Tell us your story, child." there was a kindness, a softness to the king's words which startled Alaric, but he nodded slowly, trying to keep his fear under control.

"I...My story starts two months ago..."

.............

Alaric gasped, dropping his swords with a clang. Sharp pain blossomed from his chest as he stared at the blade buried deep within his abdomen, purple blood gushing out of the wound. The two bandits laughed cruelly, then one pointed at the blood dripping from the blade. The other stopped laughing and growled, shoving the knife deeper. Alaric fell back, hitting the snow with a grunt, shoving the sword further out of himself, causing more pain to bubble up along with more of the purple liquid. 

They left him to die, of course. What had he expected them to do? Say sorry and rush him to the nearest doctor? Yeah, riiight.

"Hey! This one's alive over here, sir." a soft voice sounded above the deafening silence. A short, rodent-faced man bounded over to him on a dusty grey stallion, followed by an equally short blond with the weirdest hair he'd ever seen and bright gold eyes. On his mouth, silver wisps covered his mouth almost like stitches, sealing his mouth shut. Alaric watched the interesting male come closer, then neal. The blond seemed to be glowing all over, and he swore he saw the outlines of great wings sprouting from behind the guy. "What do we do, sir?"

The blond then gestured to Alaric, then to a horse which was tied to the rodent-faced man's horse. The man nodded grimly and dismounted. It was all Alaric saw before his vision faded to black and he fell into a chasm he thought was death.

...............

"I was scared, you see, and I had no idea who these people were!" Alaric barked hoarsely. The people of Sertah squinted their eyes at him, but he kept his gaze on the king and the little prince. The king sighed, sitting in his throne. 

"Continue."

...............

He then awoke to hushed whispers and loud 'SHHHs'. Alaric cracked open his eyes to see two people- one the wacky haired blond and the other a tall, dark haired fellow.

"What exactly are we going to do with him?" whispered the rodent-faced guy he'd seen before he THOUGHT he had died. The dark haired man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I mean we can't just let 'im go, right? He'll spew all our secrets."

Another short male, though a little taller than the blond and the rodent, with short brown hair and a small beard stepped in. "Yes, but we are not murderers, unlike the bandits that put him here. You need to cast your gaze beyond the fact that he is a so-called problem." he hissed, and a flash of teal flowing out from his eye before it vanished. The Rodent stuck his face into the brunette's. 

"Get your head outta the clouds, boy, or you might end up in them when I kick your ass all the way up there-"

The dark haired man stepped between them. "ENOUGH." he snarled, backing his words up with a shove on both their chests. He turned to the teal-eyed man. "Vlad, I know what you mean. We can't kill him, and we won't." his eyes flashed with anger as he faced Rodent. "But you, Thomas, can't keep sparking fights! This is a Rebellion- not a rough house. We have codes and respect for each other. If you cannot understand that, then leave now." he ended his order with a huff and went back over to the blond.

The shorter male lifted a hand and placed it gently on the leader's shoulder, a soft look of understanding in his golden eyes. The raven smiled and shook his head. "I know, Angel. I know." he butted his head against Angel's in a playful gesture. "Sometimes I wish I had your ability for being patient with these bunch of ingrates." he whispered. Then Angel swung his head and looked straight at Alaric. The injured man jumped slightly, wincing at the pain.

"Vezara," Vlad murmured, "He's awake." Vlad moved toward him but Angel stopped him and shot him a warning look. Vezara strode up to the table Alaric was slumped on, and now that he had a better view, he noticed Vezara's eyes were different colours. One blue and one a bright red. 

The Rebel leader peered down at him, one dark eyebrow raised. "So, do you care to tell us who you are, or shall I have to talk it out of you?"

Alaric shook his head a moment before catching his breath, which he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "My name is Alaric Enneruide. You needn't be afriad of me saying anything to anyone, anyway. I was fleeing when those bandits found me. I'm glad you found me in time, though. Thank you for taking me here and saving my life; I am forever in yours, and your rebellion's debt." he gushed out, saying the words he'd thought about since he woke up.

Angel's eyes looked suddenly like he might be smiling, Vlad looked very interested at the moment, Thomas looked like he couldn't have given less of a crap about him, and Vezara smiled politely. "Well...welcome to the Rebellion then, Alaric Enneruide. Welcome to the family." Vezara patted him on the shoulder gently and moved away. "Get some rest. You'll be training soon."

..............

"So..." the king rumbled, his brow furrowed. "It was only fair you repay them for saving your life? And may I ask why you were fleeing?"

Alaric coughed, his throat incredibly dry. "I was wrongly accused of killing the old king, my lord. I was not even in the battle when it happened, but I ran right threw it, and saw him laying there...I wanted to help! But your people saw me there, and they thought I killed him!" he rasped, hanging his head and falling on his side. Weeks of starvation, torture and almost no sleep were taking their toll on his body. The king stood up abruptly and a shadow crossed over his face. "But...I..." he coughed once again. "I saw who did it. It was..." but he never got to reveal the killer before he shut his eyes and his breathing stopped.

The king snarled and called to the guards. "Take him to the doctor and make sure he gets taken care of. I want the killer's name and his head on a pike!" 

Loki cowered behind one of the great stone pillars, trembling. What had his brother done to save that poor man from this treatment? Absolutely nothing! It was worse than committing it. He deserved more than this fate...

The prince sprang up and dashed after the guards rushing the broken and defeated man. He would talk to Alaric Enneruide- if he survived. And he would plead his brother to release the man- so maybe he and Clint could take care of him!


End file.
